


Desert+Blood

by JustAnotherWriter (N1ghtshade)



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Sorry, No happy ending here folks, short and not sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 03:52:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15380070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/N1ghtshade/pseuds/JustAnotherWriter
Summary: Taking a bullet for his friends was always supposed to be Jack's job.





	Desert+Blood

**Author's Note:**

> I was rewatching “Dark Hearts” as inspiration for another fic I’m planning and this evil little plot bunny attacked…I can’t unsee it and I’m sorry in advance.

_No. No. No._

That one single word is stuck on repeat in Jack’s head. But it isn’t loud enough to drown the pained gasps, whimpers, and sobs of the kid in his arms.

Jack’s taken care of the bastard that did this, putting three in his skull the second the guy stepped away from Mac. But it isn’t enough. It’s not even close to enough, because Mac is dying and it’s all Jack’s fault.

_Taking a bullet’s supposed to be my job, kid. Like punching people. Stick to your gadgets and science stuff and let me do my job._ Because then maybe he wouldn’t be sitting here in the middle of a desert that’s too much like the damn Sandbox, watching Mac bleed out in his arms. _Why didn’t you let me do my job?_

“Ne-need t-to…sto-stop…aahh…b-blood.” Mac’s still trying to help, fumbling ineffectually with the edge of his shirt, the buckle of his belt.

“Hold still bud, I got you.”

There’s so much blood and it’s everywhere. Drenching Mac’s shirt, soaking into the dusty ground, covering Jack’s hands. He’s never going to be rid of that feeling. This is Jack’s fault, because if he hadn’t been there, their target wouldn’t have been about to shoot him; and if the man hadn’t pointed his gun at Jack, Mac wouldn’t have dove for it. And if he hadn’t been wrestling with that guy over the gun, he wouldn’t be shot, he wouldn’t be bleeding out, he wouldn’t be dying.

Jack pulls Mac to his chest, resting his head on the boy’s shoulder, feeling tears burning down his cheeks, one hand keeping pressure on the wound, the other pressed to the slowing beat of Mac’s heart. “Come on, Mac. Please. Stay with me. Stay with me.”


End file.
